Young & Beautiful

that much.” He pauses. “And you know, I’m not just saying it to be kind, either. I never lie about
compliments. Never. Not once. I don’t give them out much, see, cuz the way I figure it, they mean
more that way. So me complimenting you right now is a real honor, Curly. You’re welcome.”
Harry glances up. “You never lie?”
Louis grins. “I’m too young and entitled to lie.”
He’s expecting some eye-rolled retort back, but all he receives is that quiet stare, Harry watching
and blinking. And then, of course, he turns around, blocking Louis out.
“Everybody lies. It’s just part of human nature.”
“Oh, how little you know me then,” Louis smirks, and as Harry looks back up at him, Louis looks
back down at his notebook, pen dancing in his hand, his lips still quirked.
And though he feels Harry’s eyes linger on him for quite awhile, he doesn’t look back up, instead
turning the page of his school book, ready to start the next chapter.
**
It’s been a couple of hours, and the sun is beginning to set, but Harry’s still lost within his work
and Louis is rather enjoying himself, getting vast amounts of homework accomplished while he
hears the snippets of beautiful melodies.
It’s just as he’s thinking that this has been his first good day in quite awhile that his phone rings.
His stomach drops at the caller ID.
“Fuck. It’s my mum,” he utters without thinking, staring at his phone, frozen.
Harry spins around, stares at him with wide eyes. They flick between Louis and the lit up phone,
buzzing incessantly on the armrest beside him. “You’re not going to answer it?” he finally asks,
nodding towards it.
Louis’ jaw sets. “No. Whatever she has to say, I’m not in the mood for. I’ve got to study,” he says
curtly, flipping his phone over and returning to his notes, face a bit more tense and hands a bit
more clenched.
Of course she had to call and ruin his pleasant thoughts. Of course. Isn’t Niall her replacement son
now? Doesn’t she call him only? What happened to that?
The room feels a bit tense and silent, and Louis’ skin feels too warm at the thought that he’s
caused the changed in mood this time. He feels Harry’s eyes on him and he’s uncomfortable, all
too aware of the silent implications in his words and the fact that he probably should have just
never said anything. Or maybe he should’ve just answered it and brushed her aside as he always
does.
“You don’t get on with your mum,” Harry’s voice says, and it’s not a question.
Louis doesn’t look up. “No. I do not.”
Pause.
“But. She’s your mum.”
“Is she?” Louis snorts. “She doesn’t act like it.”